Oliver TwistGiles, are you a Protestant?’
‘Yes, sir, I hope so,’ faltered Mr. Giles, who had turned
very pale.
‘And what are YOU, boy?’ said the doctor, turning sharp-
ly upon Brittles.
‘Lord bless me, sir!’ replied Brittles, starting violently;
‘I’m the same as Mr. Giles, sir.’
‘Then tell me this,’ said the doctor, ‘both of you, both of
you! Are you going to take upon yourselves to swear, that
that boy upstairs is the boy that was put through the little
window last night? Out with it! Come! We are prepared for
you!’
The doctor, who was universally considered one of the
best-tempered creatures on earth, made this demand in
such a dreadful tone of anger, that Giles and Brittles, who
were considerably muddled by ale and excitement, stared at
each other in a state of stupefaction.
‘Pay attention to the reply, constable, will you?’ said the
doctor, shaking his forefinger with great solemnity of man-
ner, and tapping the bridge of his nose with it, to bespeak
the exercise of that worthy’s utmost acuteness. ‘Something
may come of this before long.’
The constable looked as wise as he could, and took up
his staff of office: which had been recling indolently in the
chimney-corner.
‘It’s a simple question of identity, you will observe,’ said
the doctor.
‘That’s what it is, sir,’ replied the constable, coughing
with great violence; for he had finished his ale in a hurry,